Moments of Something Close to Peace
by Travelingthrough
Summary: Set some time after episode 2 of S6, but AU I suppose. Patrick and Teresa talk and don't talk to each other. As usual.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: These characters don't belong to me, am simply borrowing them for the purposes of this story.

AN: I am stuck in writing about the _almost now_ on the show, not quite wanting to imagine a time beyond what we already know about. I need to write an AU story soon, I think. Anyway, thanks for reading.

Moments of Something Close to Peace

It's dark and cold as she sits in her car in the motel parking lot in the early hours of the morning. She almost allows herself to feel regret for her compulsion to sit here, but the peace she feels now that she's got eyes on his window is enough to allow this weakness.

Teresa Lisbon needs to know Patrick Jane is safe, that will always be true. So she sits here in the early morning and drinks tepid coffee as she wonders when her life is ever going to change. She can laughingly remember a time when the early hours of Saturday morning would have been spent out enjoying time shared with friends. But as she chokes down another mouthful of her awful coffee she realises all over again that she can only _barely _remember a time when she was out doing _anything _on a Saturday or any other night. If she were forced to pinpoint a timeline her life then she could admit that maybe her habits outside of work have changed significantly in the last ten years. The reason she sits here tonight is the self-same reason she has lost touch with most of her other friends these last years. They've started families, built relationships and careers while she has fallen hopelessly in love with a married man.

She looks in the glove compartment for gum or anything to take her mind off her melancholic thoughts. She can't regret being here – well maybe _here in her car _is regrettable – but she can't ever bring herself to regret the love.

In the last few days Lisbon has fought angrily with Jane, witnessed the last moments of a colleague's life, been taunted and hurt by a serial killer and potentially asked out on a date by a man who just might be that serial killer. Frankly sitting here in the dark is one of the more normal things that's happened to her. She continues to watch his window as the light remains on in Jane's long stay motel room, but she hopes so desperately that he is lying in there resting. Or at least attempting rest. She followed him home earlier, not even embarrassed by her deception – she knows the alternative to sitting here would be pacing her small apartment, worrying about him and thinking. Always thinking. She wishes for a time when her nights won't be spent in thought. She wishes for nights filled with rest, and nothingness, and all the other things she shouldn't want.

She is terrified of how close to edge of sanity Jane seems to be these last days. She wasn't exaggerating when she told him how scared she was, as unpredictable as he can be she had always been able to depend on his focus and his will to see this quest through. Lately is has seemed that Red John is _always _going to be one step ahead of them, regardless of what they sacrifice – regardless of what she forces herself not to want.

She sighs deeply and wishes for some hot coffee to focus her and to keep her awake. It's close to 2am and she knows she won't leave till at least sunrise, then she will go home and try to sleep for a few hours on her day off. If she were braver she would stay here all the time, or find some way to insinuate her way into Jane's day but that would only lead to more _want _and she is already drowning in that unwelcome emotion.

She pushes her long hair behind her ear as she leans on the driver seat window, and is instantly transported to her hospital room the other day. Where for a few precious moments Jane sat close by her bed and promised her in a caramel hued voice that she was safe, that she was safe. She feels tears pool in her eyes as she lets herself acknowledge how much she wants that to be true. She can't remember what it is to feel truly safe, Red John has been a part of her reality for so long there is a part of her forever given over to the possibility of his violence being the end of her life. She knows also that his violence would similarly render her life over if he were to scar Jane any more than he already has. She wants a time when she doesn't have to sleep with a gun underneath her pillow, or worry about a serial killer hurting everyone she loves. If she could right now she would be looking out for Cho, Rigsby and Van Pelt too – but she knows they would understand that her first priority will _always _be Patrick Jane.

The soft buzz of her cell phone interrupts her musing, and she sighs a little as she hates her selfishness and wonders who has come to harm now. At least, she thinks, she's already up and won't have to drag herself out of bed to go to the latest crime scene. She checks the text and reads – _Go home Teresa, get some rest._

Apparently she wasn't quite as subtle as she hoped, but then maybe subtlety won't keep him safe so this is what she needs to do. For herself as much as him. Lisbon ignores the text, staring at the screen as she rages against him for his words. Why does he always have to know _everything, _why couldn't he just allow her this? She asks him for so very little, would it really have hurt to let her sit here and take care of him from afar. The sting of tears threaten again, as Lisbon rolls her neck to attempt to loosen the tension in her lower back. Which hopelessly, despairingly makes her count the days since Jane last rested his hand on her lower back. It's been years since she started cataloguing her happiness in the length of time his hand spent on her spine in any given day. It's been years since she stopped questioning whether or not this was smart.

Her cell buzzes again and she wants to open her door and yell at him to leave her alone.

_If you're not going home, then come in. Please. X_

She stares at the kiss at the end of the text for about 8 seconds before she lets out a weak laugh and wonders when she turned into a sixteen year old. She is suddenly exhausted, and can barely focus on her phone as she texts him back the only words she can manage. _Ok._

Lisbon slides her leather jacket back on as she locks up her vehicle and with as much dignity as she can manage heads to Jane's room. This has never happened before, this is not something they do – but then he has never _caught _her in the act of watching over him before. She wonders suddenly if he has always known that sometimes she sits here all night, that since his escape to Vegas she feels the need to be _sure _her remains with her. Even at a distance she wants to be _with _him.

She climbs the stairs, exhausted and trying to think of the words she will need to protect herself from his mocking.

Lisbon reaches his door as he slides it open, and she almost allows herself a chuckle at the sight of him in grey pyjama pants and white t-shirt. He looks younger, softer, less like the Jane he has forced himself to become.

"Lisbon."

She wants to interpret so much from that one word, or rather from the way her name is caressed by his tongue – but it's 2am and she can't permit herself to imagine affection and meaning where there is none.

He closes the door behind her and suddenly all she wants is to be home. She wants to be home and to be alone with her stupid thoughts of _saving _this man. At least in her thoughts she can berate herself while she eats ice-cream. Here she has to endure his lecture in the shabby surroundings of this pseudo home.

"Why are you here Teresa?"  
He is behind her locking the door as he asks her this most ridiculous question. Where to even start she wonders? _I got a case, I met a man, he got under my skin, I have some feelings, I worry I won't survive without you. _She says none of this, of course. She stands in the room and surveys the meagre surroundings he lives in and she wonders how this is going to go.

She hears him turn behind her and then his warm fingers are resting on the small of her back and she has to consciously the effort not to melt. She wants to yell at him _"take care of me, just for 5 minutes, take care of me." _She enjoys the fantasy while she thinks about it, but knows that these will never be words she can share with Jane.

He feels the tension in her frame, and wants very much to make that go away. He is unsure if he has the right, but surely if a woman sits outside your place all night to make sure you breathe then there are assumptions he can make about what she wants.

Jane remembers sitting with her through the night, holding her hand and gently touching her hair… Promising anything if only he could see her eyes open again. For long hours he was so afraid he wouldn't ever see the particular green of her lovely eyes ever again. He knows this was foolish, he knows Lisbon had been _tampered with _rather than taken from him – but he allowed his thoughts to go to the worst places they could. He imagined his life without her. He imagined her fingers unyielding and cold, her beautiful skin marred by Red Johns touch. It took all of his control, all of his restraint, to not climb in the hospital bed beside Lisbon and hold her close to have vivid proof of her life.

He traces his fingers along her waist, curling his hands around her until he can turn her around and bring her small frame against him in a comforting embrace. He tries very hard not to rest his lips in her hair and inhale her unique scent; he fails utterly of course and is overcome with her fragrance, and squeezes his arms all the way around her body.

"Why are you here Teresa?"

"Because you told me I couldn't sit out in my car anymore, Jane."

He kisses her hair and wishes once more she wasn't so damn stubborn. Then he kisses her there once more because he can't resist, and he fights the urge to tell her how beautiful she is. And how he adores her stubbornness, and her heart, and every other damn thing about her. He feels Lisbon's heart beat fast against his chest, and he wonders for the hundredth time in the last week what she is _feeling._

"You know what I mean, Lisbon. Why are you here?"

She buries her head in his shoulder and wonders how her life would change if she were honest with Jane right now. Being close to him like this almost makes her forget the monsters on the other side of the walls. She blinks, and she remembers they are out there still. But she wants to be honest tonight, or maybe she simply doesn't have the energy to protect herself with a lie.

"It comforts me, Jane. It comforts me."

Her words are a whisper of her warm breath against his neck, and he almost collapses under their weight. He _never _wanted to be this close to anyone again, to be this dependent and to be someone to be depended _upon_. But he wants this, whatever _this _is with the complicated, flawed woman in his arms. Jane remembers wiping blood from her face and swearing to her God that he would never let anything happen to her ever again. He wishes with his whole heart he could believe that to be true.

"Lisbon, this shouldn't be your life."

He feels her arms curl around him, and then it's the two of them together in the doorway of his room, afraid to move.

She wants to yell at him, to tell him that _of course _this should be her life; she wants to admit to him that _he _is her life. She remains silent and enjoys how protected she feels in his arms.

She hears Jane make a noise somewhere close to a sob and his fingers start to rub slow, seductive trails on the back of her neck.

"Lisbon."

He kisses her hair again; he _really _can't stop doing that, and silently promises himself to her for the remainder of his life.

"Let me take care of you, Lisbon. Please?"

Lisbon knows she should make a joke now and find a way to walk out of here, but exhaustion – definitely exhaustion – renders her speechless and liquid in his arms.

Jane thinks about it for several beats of her heart against his chest, and then decides Lisbon is under what passes for his roof so she should be prepared for any craziness that comes her way.

He bends slightly, one hand on her waist and the other behind her knees and then he lifts her into his arms.

She almost starts to argue with him, but he looks at her with such naked adoration she decides to not worry about doing the _right _thing for a few moments.

She feels reassuringly alive in his arms, Jane holds her close to his body as he leads her over to his bedside. The feel of her head resting against his shoulder is the best thing that has happened to him in weeks. Months, probably. He places her down to sit on the rumpled quilt on his bed and he leans on the floor in front of her. He places his head in her lap and tries to remember to breathe.

She feels like she has entered into a strange alternate universe since she came into this room. She wants to cry for him when she looks at the room he calls home, but mostly she wants to stay as quiet as she can so she doesn't scare Jane away from her.

"What is this Jane, what does this mean?"

He moves his head from her lap, resting his right hand against her thigh as he kisses her cheek. He kisses his way along her skin until his lips are buried in her hair as his nose rubs against her ear.

"You know what this is; you know what this means Teresa."

Jane breathes in and out for a few moments, trying to remain calm, hoping she knows what he has confessed to her. He feels her shiver and once again his desire to _care _takes over.

He helps her take off her jacket and gun, and with great effort he moves away from her to hang them in the wardrobe. He returns to her and kneels down to undo her boots and pulls them from her, then takes off her socks and rubs his thumbs across the arch of her small feet. He is aware of her exhaustion when he looks up and notices that she is adorably struggling to keep her eyes open.

He knows he needs to talk to her, _really _talk but right now he wants to be lying beside her as soon as possible. He whispers to her than she needs to go to sleep as he removes her belt from her jeans, his one concession to trying to make her more comfortable while she rests with him in his bed.

He returns his lips to her ear and kisses her softly and then whispers once more to tell her to lie down.

Lisbon is on the edge of sleep now and simply does as she is told and lies almost in the middle of Jane's bed. He smiles at her awkwardness in even these circumstances and crawls under the covers to lie beside her. She is almost asleep as he kisses her hair, and wraps his arms around her; pulling her small body against his so that he can feel her heart beat against his chest.

He wants to tell her everything. He wants to whisper words to her that he has not shared with anyone in so many years. But he hears her breathing become shallow and knows what he wants to say will have to wait. All that matters now is Teresa. He has promised himself before that this is true, but this time he means it. He wants her to know this quite desperately. He allows himself the indulgence of whispering to her one more time before he closes his eyes.

"You know what this is; you know what this means Teresa."

He thinks he can feel her smile against his chest at his words, and when her hand moves under his shirt to rest against his bare skin he becomes certain of it.

He lies with her next to him and he rests. The monsters outside circle closer, always closer, but for tonight they can enjoy the peace they can share together.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: These characters don't belong to me, am simply borrowing them for the purposes of this story.

AN: Follows on directly from the last chapter, might be a little on the sad side.

Moments of Something Close to Peace Chapter 2

Jane finds that he can't sleep tonight, the weight of exhaustion pulling him down towards rest is not quite enough to resist enjoying the warmth of Teresa Lisbon sleeping in his arms.

Her hand rests still on his chest, and he knows that he has eternally been branded by this touch. He finds that he wants her to lie like this with him all of tonight, and tomorrow, and tomorrow… He wonders if Lisbon will listen to him if he were to make this request in the morning.

It's close to 3am and he can barely make out her features in the darkness of his motel room, but he is learning her by touch. Jane knows he should not, knows he should not trace his fingertips against her shoulder as he is just now – but he can't stop. He wants to _know_ her by touch; he wants to reclaim her beautiful skin from Red Johns touch. He knows it's hardly his place, but he _aches _for it to be his place nonetheless. He leans his head slightly forward from the pillow to rest his lips on top of Lisbon's hair. He can feel her warm breath through the thin material of his t-shirt and he fights the urge to wrap his arms tightly around her and whisper _mine. _He smiles in the early morning darkness as he imagines just how Teresa would react if she were to hear him making that declaration. He imagines her hitting him, he imagines her telling him to _hush, _and he imagines the blush of colour on her cheeks as she can't quite hide her secret pleasure at his words. He wishes so very much there didn't have to be so many secrets between them.

Lisbon moves in her sleep, tightening her hold around his body, her hand sliding from his chest to wrap around his side. He almost shouts out loud with the pleasure he feels at her caress. He thinks back to the few words they exchanged tonight before he carried Lisbon to his bed. He wants to believe she understood what he was trying to tell her earlier, he wants to believe that his oblique words will have convinced her of his love.

He feels something in his heart tighten when he realises all over again that oblique words and secret touches in the darkness is all he can offer Lisbon. He hopes that one day he will be able to offer her, _to give_ _her, _everything she deserves. He meant it so very much when he told her that this _shouldn't be her life._ She should be in the sunshine, smiling, laughing that lovely laugh of hers. He can't help but to insinuate himself into that picture of Lisbon free and happy. He fervently wants to be beside her when all of this is over.

Jane wants her beside him all the time.

He wonders if he were to tell her this, _in those words, _if she would punch him or _let _him.

He lies in the dark and concentrates on her fingers against him. He very much enjoys the way they rub across the soft skin at his waist. Which she is apparently doing in her sleep…

"You should be sleeping, Jane."

Her sleepy voice is almost unbearably sensual to Jane's ears. He tries to calm his breath, his heart and all of his possible responses to Lisbon's words.

"I feel entirely unwilling to close my eyes tonight, Lisbon."

She sighs slightly, the noise loud in the silence of the room, and she wants so very much to bury her head in the warmth of his chest and sleep. It feels like she hasn't felt as warm and comfortable and _safe _as she feels right now since forever.

Lisbon wants very much to feel this way forever. She accepts that will only be possible with _this _man, with Jane, and she closes her eyes against the onslaught of tears; knowing in her heart that he isn't now and might never be in a place where he can offer her what she needs.

"You're very quiet Lisbon, do you think I could persuade you to try and get some more rest. It's the middle of the night, or very early in the morning; but however we choose to label the time I want you here with me where you're safe."

He knows she could call him on his comment about her safety and the ridiculous notion that he could do _anything _to protect such a powerfully able woman. But she lets it go and he loves her a little more for it, he wants to be the man who keeps her safe. But as he values his arms, he keeps this precious thought to himself.

"I was sleeping Jane until someone started tickling me. Would you have any idea who that might have been?"

Jane has to restrain himself from whispering to Lisbon how utterly _adorable _she is when she's tired and grumpy. Of course he would also have to confess that this adorableness is heightened because of her hands on his skin and her head on his chest.

"No idea what you're talking about Lisbon, now you really should be sleeping. Should we count sheep? Do you think that would help?"

She smiles at the ridiculousness of their situation. Both exactly where they want to be; or she _assumes _this is where he wants to be – choosing to believe his brief words of implied devotion earlier as truth. She doesn't want to go to sleep, she wants to help this beautiful man out of this soft t-shirt and kiss away their problems. Instead she closes her eyes and silently berates herself for indulgently wanting to kiss her way to a resolution.

"I think we're doomed to sleeplessness until we stop Red John. I think about him all day when I'm awake, and these last night's I've been thinking about him in sleep too."

It's Jane's turn to sigh, and this time he gives in to the actions he was contemplating earlier. He wraps both his arms tightly around her, lowers his face to her hair and places a lingering kiss on her sweet smelling head.

"I shouldn't be here Jane; I should go and let you rest. I'll go home, lock my door and try to rest for a while."

Jane further tightens his hold on her, and it's the only answer to her statement he seems willing to give.

"I shouldn't be here like this, Jane. I need to go."

It's the resignation in her voice that forces Jane to speak this time.

"You certainly shouldn't be sitting out there alone, watching over me. You need to take care of yourself. I'm afraid for you Teresa, can you understand that? I don't want you to be alone while he's still alive. I'm scared for you, we're all scared. And that's okay, this is okay."

He whispers all of this to her, his breath disturbing her long hair and distracting her with the pure pleasure of the sensations he is evoking in her. She tries so very hard to resist the seductive heat of his voice, and to concentrate on extracting herself from his arms. She concentrates so hard on _extracting herself from his arms _that she tangles her right leg with his.

"_This _isn't okay Jane; it's not even close to _okay. _And you're right I am scared – I'm scared of so many different things… But so is Grace, so is Cho, so is Rigsby. Grace isn't here though is she?"

"Well I imagine Grace is with Rigsby…"

She thinks for a few moments of the potential implications of his words, Grace is with her partner in life and Lisbon rests here with hers… She wants to ask him so many questions, maybe just this once she wants to ask him what he _means._

She does not.

She lies in his arms and is unspeakably grateful for these moments that they spend together. She feels his heart beating through his shirt beneath her cheek, she wishes she were brave enough to kiss him and tell him how thankful she is to feel his wonderful heartbeat.

She does not.

He traces her side with his fingertips, wishing she were not wearing her work clothes right now. He loses himself in the sensation of gliding his fingers over her skin, trying to soothe, relax and enchant her with his touch. He wants to become _necessary _to her like this, which he knows is selfish but then he has never pretended to be anything other than a man capable of great selfishness. He is consumed by the pleasure of being with her like this, and he forgets that he should be keeping at least some sort of pretence of distance between them. He kisses her hair, kissing all the way down to her ear, her sharp inhalation of breath the only thing to bring him back to his senses.

"Jane."

He is afraid to move, to speak, and to ever let her go.

"You seem to have a _thing _for my hair lately."

She speaks before thinking, realising too late that she has spoken and that she has gave voice to all that they usually avoid.

Jane knows he's been a little obvious about it lately, but it's just that her _hair _is the safest place he can touch. He can't say he admires her legs, or hips, or skin, or eyes, or neck, or lips any less than he admires her hair… But he knows that caressing her neck or lips might have gotten him shot. So he has greedily been indulging in his adoration of her long, silky hair. He doesn't think there is a man alive who could blame him for it. The woman in his arms, however, may choose to disagree and hurt him. So he pledges to be honest, regardless of how uncomfortable the words might make her.

"You have very beautiful hair Teresa, that's all. I think it's very beautiful."

She closes her eyes at his words, and allows herself a moment to bask in the apparent truth of his declaration. They might be the most perfect words he has ever said to her; they _might _be perfect words… If she weren't here because she is terrified he will run off and murder a serial killer, or worse he will be taken from her by the very same serial killer. Life can be especially unkind sometimes.

She decides she has to snap out of this, and if she lies wrapped in Jane's arms any longer then she will never leave. Or worse, ask if she can stay. She rubs her nose against his chest then slowly pulls herself out of his arms. Lisbon can feel his reluctance in the movement of his arms from her body, but eventually she is separated from him. She lies facing him now, not yet willing to leave the warmth of his bed.

Lisbon reaches across to where he lies, and runs her fingers through his own hair. A long held fantasy of burying her fingers in his soft curls at last realised, but the slight moan of pleasure Jane makes at her touch has her scurrying away to _her _side of the bed.

"I'm sorry Jane."

"I'm not. I'm trying very hard not to ask you to do that again, Teresa."

He smiles at her and she can feel the tell-tale burn of blush on her cheeks, and the familiar urge to smack him.

"I stand by my earlier statement that we shouldn't be doing this."

"I know, and yet we seem to be comfortable lying next to each other like this."

He reaches over to take her hand in his to rest in the space between them. She can't help but watch him across the distance of the sheets, and he can feel the tremble of her fingers between his own. She untangles their joined hands and reaches out hesitant fingers to trace the side of his face. Jane almost purrs with pleasure at her touch, savouring the joy of her fingers dancing across his cheek.

"I think that…"

She can't seem to find the words. She pulls her hand away, as nervous now of her actions as she is about her intended words.

"I'm sorry Jane, I'm no good at this. I can yell and give orders, or take orders at work but I've never been any good at this."

He smiles at her, enchanted by her and her guilelessness.

"I think you're perfect at this Teresa, utterly charming. Tell me what you wanted to say to me now. Tell me because I want to hear it, not because you're afraid to say it."

Jane moves closer to Teresa in his bed, he lies with his head at the very edge of his pillow while she is resting against her own. He relishes how she looks in the bed next to him, her eyes huge in the dark of his room.

She decides that as tonight they seem to have abandoned rules and good sense she is just going to say what she has so often thought about.

Lisbon reaches her hand back across so that she can lay her palm against Jane's cheek. He closes his eyes, and tries so very hard to regulate his breath so as not to frighten her into taking her hand away again. She lets her thumb trace along his cheekbone, marvelling that he seems to be unable to control his trembling at her touch. She traces down the lines of his face with her index finger, over and over.

"I think this is beautiful, Jane."

She continues to trace the particular line on his face she is so fond of, and he continues to remind himself to breathe.

"I know you know you're gorgeous, but this is my favourite part of your face. It makes you a little more normal."

"I have no idea what you're talking about woman. You like my face?"

"I like the lines on your face."

"You're a strange woman, Teresa."

She smiles at him the darkness and traces her finger once more down the particular line she so adores.

"You have a very beautiful face Jane, that's all. I think it's very beautiful."

She repeats his earlier words back to him, and he moves to hold her palm against his face to enjoy her warmth and affection. He won't permit her to break their gaze and can feel the trembling of her fingers against his skin.

"I never wanted this Teresa. I never wanted anything ever again that would cost so much if it were taken from me."

She can see the threat of tears in his eyes, and knows the same is true for herself. She doesn't know how to respond to perhaps the most honest words he has ever shared with her. She knows that honesty is the least she owes him in return, and she feels her heart in her throat when he turns his face into her palm and seeks comfort in her skin.

"Please don't be foolish and careless and get yourself killed. Please don't think you have to leave us behind and get him by yourself. Promise me you won't be careless."

He allows himself the infinite pleasure of brushing his lips against Lisbon's palm and then prepares to say the words which he knows will end this little bubble of near happiness they have found themselves in tonight.

"I can't promise you that, Teresa. I want to, I want to promise you everything but I _can't. _I promised them first. I promised them, and I can't break that promise – I failed them so utterly in every other way."

Lisbon moves across the sparse distance between them and envelops Jane in her arms, hugging him to her with all the affection she has in her.

"If you do what you've been planning all these years, you have to know that will break me. It'll destroy the rest of my life Jane."

She is crying now as she whispers this truth to him, rubbing her fingers in comforting circles against his back.

"I know what it'll cost me Teresa, and I have to accept that."

"Pursuing Red John on your own will cost you your life, or at best your freedom."

"I know."

"And that's not something you care about?"

He can hear the sorrow in her voice as she practically begs him to listen to her, to _finally _listen to her. Lisbon is wrapped around him, her arms around his neck and her legs tangled with his own. He thinks about how this should be so perfect, and yet the woman he adores is currently begging him not to sacrifice his life.

"I do care, and I'm so very sorry Teresa. But I have lived for this for so long, and I mean what I said. I promised Angela and Charlotte first, and I know that means I could lose _you, _but I promised. I know _this _is what I have to lose and I'm sorrier than I can ever tell you."

He tightens his hand on her hip, relishing the curve of her flesh against his palm while wondering if he will ever be able to touch her like this again.

Lisbon is trying so very hard to save her tears for when she is alone. Though she knows – _wearily accepts – _that even though she is almost intimately with him now she remains alone. She wonders if there could ever be a day for them when this isn't true. She wonders if they will ever find themselves in a place where they could simply be _together._

He almost succumbs to the temptation of kissing her cheek, her nose, her lips, any part of her skin that he can, but he knows his attempt to comfort her – comfort them both – would only lead to further temptation and sadness.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Lisbon. I'm sorry."

She pulls slightly out of his embrace to lie on her side next to him, trying to decide if kissing him would be the smartest or stupidest thing she could do.

"Lisbon I want you to think about how much you want this, well I want it more. Remember that please."

She takes some sort of grim pleasure that he at least acknowledges she is not alone in wanting what she should not. Jane wipes tears from the curve of her cheek and hates himself for being the cause of them.

She leans forward and kisses his cheek; _I love you _in her touch.

She traces _that _line on his face, _so much _in her fingertips.

They lie together, alone. They listen to each others breath and try to make these hours where they are in each other's arms last a life time.

As they lie together in the darkness they don't notice the envelope being pushed under the door.

The contents will await them in morning. It seems he will always come between them.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: These characters don't belong to me, am simply borrowing them for the purposes of this story.

AN: Thanks very much to everyone who has been reading, reviewing, following or favouriting this story – it makes me day every time it happens. What follows happens directly after the previous chapter, and it's about 3500 words of nothingness.

Moments of Something Close to Peace Chapter 3

Jane finds that he wants to both cry and rejoice at the ridiculousness of his current predicament. He has been lying on his uncomfortable motel bed for hours with Teresa Lisbon in his arms. Neither of them has managed much sleep in the night, but he feels strangely rested for having been able to hold Lisbon curled against his body. They are wrapped around each other still, breathing softly in the low light of the morning and apparently disinclined to move.

It's just after 6am on Saturday morning and Jane is thinking about the day to come, wondering how he will be able to convince Lisbon to pass those hours in his presence. He hopes he will be able to persuade her to stay away from the Bureau building today, and to just share some time with him. They can work as easily here as the office, or better yet they could lie like this together all day and extend these peaceful moments into entire hours and hours.

Jane has been considering how very much he would compromise his quest, his promises and more importantly Lisbon's life if he were to move his hand from where it has been curled around Lisbon's hip to the warm skin covered by her shirt. These short hours spent with her have been intoxicating and almost more than he can bear. He wants to be able to offer her so much more, but also he wants so much more for himself. He _wants _to touch her, to offer her pleasure and to be overwhelmed with the delight of losing himself in her body.

He breathes deeply and curls his fingers tighter around the curve of her hip, he understands however that he can't ask for more than this, he doesn't have the right.

He knows she is awake in his arms and he wishes for the thousandth time that he could interpret exactly what she is thinking. He wonders where her thoughts have taken her as she has lain with him like this. He wonders if she will pretend this didn't happen when they eventually leave his bed. Part of him could live with that, it would make his pursuit of Red John so much easier if all of his brain were focused on that rather than exploring and imagining his favourite ways of tasting Lisbon's skin.

He breathes deeply and wishes for another life where he would be free to love this woman in the way she so obviously deserves. These last hours have been powerfully significant for him, and it's affected his equilibrium more than he can say. This is the first time he has lain down with someone he cares for – someone he _loves – _since that woeful morning when he got up and kissed Angela good bye for the last time. He finds himself intensely, irrevocably connected with Lisbon now, the silent promises they have shared while lying together pulse in his veins making him wantfiercely for this to be his life. He wants what he has now to be his _normal _life.

He'll never tell her this of course; the knowledge of what could have been will only haunt Lisbon once he has gone. As truly as knowing what _could be_ haunts him while he holds this warm, kind, sweet, tough, broken, beautiful woman against his body. He knows he should let her go – literally remove his hands from around her body and let her alone. He can't, he doesn't seem to be able to get his limbs to co-operate and allow him to separate himself from her.

He breathes in the sweet scent of her hair, his nose buried in the long strands at the base of her skull and he counts down from ten to the moment he is going to remove himself from this glorious little cocoon of borrowed pleasure. He starts the count from ten again as soon as he finishes the first one, just ten extra seconds spent in the luxury of touching – this is the last indulgence he will permit himself before re-learning how to not touch her.

"Jane, I need to go to the bathroom, I'm sorry but I need to move."

He smiles a little at how endearingly sleepy she sounds in the early hours of the morning. Then he thinks of how she could be quite capable of being the opposite of endearing if he doesn't allow her freedom to go pee, so he reluctantly releases her from his hold with as much grace as he can handle.

He watches amused as Lisbon practically runs for the bathroom, then he rests his palm on the warmth of the sheets where she has so recently been lying. As wonderful as her residual heat feels, as intoxicating as her scent on his pillow is, he finds himself unwilling to stay in his bed without her. Funny how so very quickly he has become accustomed to her here with him.

He crawls out of bed and heads to his beloved kettle, thinking that tea and coffee will help carry them to a more comfortable place.

He puts on the water to heat as he indulges in the pleasure of listening to Lisbon move around in his bathroom. He hears the water running and he thinks of how she is most likely washing her face, and he smiles when he imagine how lovely she will look with her face free from make-up with wet tendrils of hair clinging to her beautiful face.

Jane shakes his head and attempts to stop listening to prevent falling even further in love with her this morning.

He moves to tidy up the bed a little, but he stops as he notices an envelope behind his door where earlier there was none. He freezes for a few seconds then hesitantly walks towards what he knows will be further intrusion from Red John into his life.

He stares at it for ten seconds, counting down again but this time to gain the courage to look at what he most fears. He picks up the A4 size manila envelope and crosses his room to sit at the small table and chairs.

He sits and wonders at what Red John could possibly be taunting him with now, and he _knows _the tightest in his chest is from a fresh burst of terror.

"Jane, what are you doing up?"

She is already behind him when she speaks, unselfconsciously resting her hand on his right shoulder. The contact makes him close his eyes in pleasure, and he savours all over again the luxury of her touch.

She leans over his shoulder and notices what has captured all of Jane's attention.

"Jane, have you touched that? We need to get that bagged."

"Red John won't be stupid enough to leave any clues. He knows better than that Teresa. I want to see what he's telling me right now."

She sighs in weary frustration but refuses to fight him on this point; she simply rubs her fingers in what she hopes to be a comforting pattern across his shoulder and the top of his back.

He opens the envelope slowly, ridiculously afraid of what he will find. Quickly he realises there are photographs and he hopes so very much they won't be of what he is so terrified of.

Lisbon feels him tense under her fingertips as he removes the large photographs from the envelope.  
"Jesus, Jane."

The words escape her mouth before she can even think to stop them. She feels him shake in anger or terror; she's not entirely sure which. She doesn't think she has the words to make this okay but she knows she'll have to try.

"Jane, this is okay – he's trying to mess with you, don't let him."

"This is not okay Teresa; this is so far from okay."

He stares at them, tracing his thumb over whatever he witnesses in one and he tries so very hard not throw up in front of Teresa.

And suddenly he is on his feet, pushing past her as he heads to the bathroom. Lisbon is torn between following him to make sure he is okay and staying here on her own so she can examine the pictures without Jane worrying about her reaction.

She sits down at the table and spreads the photographs in front of her – all of her, all apparently taken in the last few days. There is a picture of her alone and leaving the hospital after her recent stay, there is one of her and Jane while they sat in the park and drank coffee. The picture has been snapped at the very moment Jane has laid his fingers on her forearm while smiling at her. They look happy and it stabs at her heart that Red John has seen them like this. The next picture is of her buying coffee in the morning, then there's one of her leaving her car before going home. Then slightly more disturbingly there is one from a few hours ago, taken of Lisbon when she was mounting her vigil in the parking lot outside.

She wants to open the motel room door and scream at whoever is watching to stop hiding and just come. She wants an honest fight not all this absurd teasing. She hears Jane retch in the other room as she picks up the last picture, the one that sent him running. She inhales in horror and resolves to never let Patrick know how close she has just come to vomiting herself. She stares at the image of her, blood smeared across her face in a horrific representation of Red Johns mark. She imagined what she looked like when he Patrick found her, but what had been done to her makes her want to run outside and really scream this time.

She wants this to be over, there is only so much that can be borne and she knows in her soul that she has reached the edge of her endurance. She believes that to be doubly true for Jane.

She reads the message written in red pen across the bottom of that last picture, _'next time I will carve this into Teresa's beautiful face. I think about it every day, I am counting the hours till I can touch her with such reverence.'_

Enough, she thinks. That is enough.

Lisbon is about to head to the bathroom to check on Jane, but when she hears him brushing his teeth she decides to allow him another few minutes to put himself back together.

She wonders if what she is about to do will be the biggest mistake of her life, but she is so tired of waiting to die and of expecting to live the few days she has left without Patrick Jane. She feels resoundingly unwilling to suffer like this anymore.

She runs her fingers through her hair, and wishes for a brush to make her appear more human at this criminally early hour. She looks up and tries very hard to smile as Jane leaves the bathroom and moves to come over and sit beside her.

"You okay Jane?"

"Of course, but I apologise for my reaction I should have been more prepared for that. I don't want you to worry, that won't happen again."

Jane sits down beside her and takes her hand within his own and rubs his thumb in comforting circles against her palm.

"Jane, don't let him do this to you. We're going to be okay, I promise."  
He lifts her fingers to his lips and kisses her, his touch lingering just long enough for her to feel the fragile emotion and sorrow in his kiss.

"You don't have to promise me anything Lisbon, we've gone beyond that. He's telling me that he's coming for you, and I won't wait around for that to happen. I refuse to let this happen to you. So I am going to disappoint you again my dear, after all these years of disappointing you this will be the last time. I'm going to make sure you get home, and then I need to go."

He turns to face her as he tells her this with a look of utter weariness on his beloved face.

"You're going nowhere Jane; you need to hush with this nonsense."

"I need to go find him Teresa; I need to stop him before it's too late. I don't want him to do to you what he did to…"

And he breaks at these words, lost in that moment so many years ago when he found the ruined bodies of his adored family. He knows, knows in his heart that it would be the end of his sanity if he were to lose Lisbon in the same way. He knows that he must hold on to what remains of his sanity for her and go find and kill Red John.

Lisbon turns on the bed to face Jane, resting her hand on his knee just for an excuse to touch him.

"He's not going to hurt me, he won't get the chance – these photographs are a weak man taunting you. You have to not let him get away with that. We are going to catch him; we are so close to that now."

Jane lifts her hand from his leg to hold between both of his, delighting in the strength of her pulse at his touch.

"I need to go and do this Teresa, I need to find him and stop this. I know we've always disagreed on how this was going to end, but I don't see another choice now. I want to honour my promise to my family, and I need for you to live. Let me do that, please."

"I refuse to _let _you run off to get yourself killed Jane; you know I can't do that."

He sighs and silently begs her to let him take care of her just this once. He is almost coward enough to not look in her expressive eyes, but he meets her gaze and is overwhelmed by all that she can't hide as she looks at him.

"I don't want to be killed, Teresa but I don't feel like we've been left with much choice. I have to go do this, and I do hope that I'll be alive at the end of it. I hope to see you again and feebly hope I won't be spending the rest of my life in jail. But I hope most of all that you live a long and happy life. I need to protect you from him. For that to happen I need to go and face Red John. I would ask you to wait for me if I wasn't such a poor excuse for a partner."

She pulls her hand from his at these words, jumping up from the bed to start pacing across the motel room. She wants to smack him, or handcuff him so that he _listens _to her for once.

"You want me to _wait? _Are you serious Jane, what do you think this is? What do you think I've been doing all these years? _This _is what waiting looks like."

She stops her pacing and stands before him, a mixture of sadness and annoyance radiating from her.

"I don't want fight with you now Teresa, but you have to understand this is my right. Revenge for my beautiful family is my _right, _and protecting you _is my right. _I need that; I need to have at least given you that."

She's silent for several long moments, pondering his reaction to what she is about to share with him. But if she is to lose this war of words, if he walks alone towards Red John today, then she wants to have left him with honesty.

"You want revenge, I understand that and in so many ways I want that for you too – I want you to have that peace. But this has been my life for ten years too and I need to stop Red John for my own reasons. My priority is catching him while keeping you alive and whole. I need to protect you, and that _is my right. _You can hate me for it Jane, _but I need to protect you_."

He is on his feet and reaching for her before she has the opportunity to move away. He holds her face between both his hands and forces her to look at him.

"I could never hate you Teresa. You must know that."

She closes her eyes and wonders if her life would have been simpler if she'd chosen to stay home last night, tequila and ice cream would have kept her away from this sort of trouble.

Jane's hands against her skin and the intensity of his scrutiny makes her want to forget sense and boundaries and what should be and instead to reach up and kiss him. Instead she counts her breaths, closes her eyes and clears her head.

"I'm not letting you leave Jane; you're going to have to accept that. I'm going wherever you do. I understand you have promises to keep, but I've made promises of my own over the years. You're not leaving here to go and face Red John on your own."

He moves slightly closer to her, and rubs his thumb down the length of her nose.

"You can't die Teresa."

"I'm not afraid of death Jane, but I don't want to die alone and I certainly don't want that for you. So I'm coming with you and I'm not arguing anymore about this. You need to accept that I'm not going to let you run."

He stares at her, wondering how he could have been given such a gift as this woman. He rests his forehead against hers and he feels something loosen in his heart, it aches for what he has lost but maybe it can beat for what he could have with Lisbon.

"I don't know you're pretty small Teresa; I think I could out run those little legs of yours."

She pushes him away from her in frustration, thoroughly tired of his equal parts sweetness and pain in the ass tendencies. He grabs her hand to prevent her going too far away from where he needs her to be, which he has recently discovered is close by him.

"I can out run you any day Jane; you spend most of your life napping, and my legs aren't so very little. You really are the most unbearable man sometimes. I should ask God to give me the patience to deal with you. You're lucky I love you so much or I'd punch you in the nose right now."

He smiles at her, enchanted by her rant and her unbearably precious words.

"Say that again, Teresa."

"That I should ask God to give me patience, it's true – I should."

"No my dear, say the other part."

Her face colours as she acknowledges the open secret she has exposed. Her face colours in a mixture of exhilaration and shame, but she can't regret that she has allowed herself the luxury of honesty with him."

"I love you."

He's smiling the smile that could convince entire armies to enter into battle for him, and he's smiling that smile for her. She wonders if that will be something she will live long enough to come to accept as her right. She feels her heart beat heavily in her chest as Jane takes her left hand and rests it over his heart.

"Like the way you love Cho?"

"No I like Cho much more; he listens to me for a start."

This time his hands move to her waist and he pulls her to rest flush against his body. He leans down this time to whisper his words into her ear.

"Say it again Teresa."

She sighs, but it's a happy sound.

"I love you."

He wraps his arms tighter around her and swears to her God that he will keep her alive. He swears to himself that he will be worthy of her faith and devotion, and he silently swears to Lisbon that he loves her too. Then he thinks perhaps this is something she should know for herself.

"I love you too."

They stand in the middle of the room and hold onto each other with renewed determination.

"We should get out of here Jane."

One day, he swears, he will tell this woman of his love and then they will kiss and then go to the nearest bed. He knows that won't be today, but he's going to use this idea as incentive to stay alive.

"Where are we going my dear?"

"I think we pack up everything you can carry and we go to my place and work out what's next"

He loosens his embrace of her a little to once again hold Lisbon's treasured face in his palms. He rubs his thumb across the flesh of her bottom lip and he thinks he may need to pray for the strength to _not _kiss her with all that he has.

"And you promise me Jane, you promise me you won't be careless with your life."

He thinks of all that this woman has done for him over the years, all the wretchedness he has brought to her and of how very little she has ever asked of him. He thinks of how her smile is the best part of any day, and of how he wants to be the source of all her smiles someday.

"Okay my dear, for you I promise I won't be careless with my life."

She kisses the pad of his thumb as it lies against her mouth, extracts herself from his arms and starts to get ready to face whatever the day will bring

The monster circles closer, pulling at the shackles that have kept it contained. He knows he can wait a little longer; the anticipation building as he waits for the fulfilment he will find when Teresa Lisbon dies.


End file.
